For Better and Worse
by Diva of Overkill
Summary: Snape makes an offer Harry isn't able to refuse. AU Severitus Challenge response, starts after 5th Year but may contain bits from all books. Contains Sirius/Remus and Severus/Lucius, but just in background. Neville plays a big part. Non-evil Malfoys.
1. Chapter 1

Harry refused to look up.

There was absolute silence in the room.

He just kept staring at the frayed, knotted laces of his old trainers.

"Harry?"

He hated when Lupin used that tone. It always made him feel guilty, somehow, no matter what it was that Lupin actually said.

"You can say no."

Very slowly, Harry raised his head and fixed Lupin with the ugliest glare he could manage, given the giant lump threatening to choke him. "Really? You reckon I could?"

Lupin swallowed hard.

"Yeah," Harry continued darkly, "I reckon I'll just say no." He gritted his teeth and refused to let his voice shake. "Sirius can just stay dead."

"Harry..."

"Forget it," Harry spat out, rising quickly to his feet. He wasn't going to let anyone see him cry. "I'll be up in my room." He stomped past the silent figures on the sofa, refusing to look at any of them. "PACKING!"

He slammed the door behind him, just in case anyone was thinking of following him, and tore up the stairs to the third floor. He locked his bedroom door and collapsed against it, gasping for breath.

He wished he could grab his things and go back to Number 4, Privet Drive.

Except it wasn't there anymore.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and dropped his head into his hands.

He wasn't sure how long he sat like that. He became aware of footsteps on the staircase, and muted voices.

Leaping up, feeling angry once more, he threw open his trunk and began tossing in his things.

Not that he'd had time to unpack. There was a jumper draped over a bedpost, some books, and a few balled-up socks on the floor. He threw them all in and let the trunk lid fall shut with a bang.

The footsteps stopped outside his door. For a long minute there was silence as Harry waited tensely for the only thing that could possibly happen next.

The soft raps sounded like thunder in his ears, and he jumped involuntarily.

"Harry?"

He reached for the door, noticing that his hand was shaking, and unlocked it.

It swung open.

"Professor Snape is here," Lupin said quietly. "If you're ready, he would like to speak with you privately."

Harry's head wagged up and down of its own accord. He felt like a puppet on a string, stepping back to let Snape in.

Lupin hesitated for a moment, but Snape, once inside Harry's room, shut the door firmly. Harry's last glimpse of Lupin just caught the resigned slump of the man's shoulders as he turned to go.

"I see you've packed," Snape said, his black eyes sweeping the room. "Then you have made up your mind?"

"Yes." His voice sounded as numb as he felt.

"Good."

A silence stretched. Harry was determined not to look at Snape, and resolutely stared at the wall while feeling Snape's eyes boring into him. He wondered if Snape was going to explain... that is, if there was an explanation.

But, no, Snape didn't explain. He took out his wand and flicked it at Harry's trunk, which wobbled and lifted into the air, hovering a foot above the floorboards.

"Come along."

Wordlessly, Harry followed his floating trunk out into the hallway, where the dim light of the gas lamps barely illuminated the shabby, stained walls.

They passed Sirius's room. Snape didn't give the closed door a glance, but Harry's eyes dragged over it, his chest constricting.

He wouldn't have agreed to go with Snape for any other reason but this.

Snape held out a pot of floo powder, and Harry took a handful and waited for instructions.

"Malfoy Manor," Snape said, his tone holding a challenge. Expecting him to throw a fit.

"Malfoy Manor," Harry repeated in a dull monotone, throwing the floo powder into the fireplace and stepping into the green flames. Green flames swirled around him. He could see Snape taking a handful of floo powder and stepping toward him, but he was already spinning away, hugging his arms around himself.

It had hardly begun, and then he was spat out onto a cold marble floor in a cloud of soot, coughing and sputtering, trying to rub his burning eyes clear.

When he managed to sit up, he saw that he was not alone.

Sprawled over an armchair was one of the last people he wanted to see.

"Potter," Malfoy drawled. He was looking at Harry with disgust, the History of Magic textbook he had been reading lying discarded over his knee.

"Malfoy," Harry returned, pushing himself to his feet despite the fact that the room still hadn't stopped spinning.

"How lovely to see you again. And so soon." Malfoy waved a hand around and rolled his eyes. "Welcome to my humble home."

Harry glared at him.

"Seems you'll be here --" Malfoy cut himself off as the fireplace roared to life once more.

Snape stepped out, not the least off balance, and brushed a bit of soot off his shoulder. Harry's trunk floated out of the flames and came to a stop at Snape's side.

"Follow me," Snape said to Harry, barely glancing in Malfoy's direction.

Harry squared his shoulders, not wanting Malfoy to see even the slightest tremor run through him, held his head high, and fell into step behind Snape. 


	2. Chapter 2

As he followed Snape, Harry barely took notice of anything around him. He got a general impression of too-large rooms and too-high ceilings, but most of the intricately carved doors they passed were shut. Finally, after ascending a wide staircase and following a maze of hallways, Snape stopped in front of just such a door.

"This will be your room for as long as you stay here. You are not to go wandering about, but you may use the library at the far end of this hallway. You are to present yourself in the dining room on time for all meals. Is this understood?"

Harry suppressed a shudder. "Yes, sir."

"I will be taking your Invisibility Cloak and any other items you will no longer be needing."

Harry was forced to dig his fingernails into his palms to keep back the retort that almost escaped, and as a result he said nothing. Snape, who had turned to open the door with a large iron key, turned back to look at him with narrowed eyes.

"Yes, sir."

"I will take those things now, lest you forget."

The heavy door swung open slowly but silently, and Snape stepped inside, leaving Harry to reluctantly follow him into the darkness. With a wave of his wand, Snape lit two lamps, one on either side of the door, and with another wave pulled back the long drapes covering two tall, narrow windows. Though it was twilight, enough light came through the windows to help illuminate the room, the stained-glass panels at the top of the windows throwing odd multicolored designs over the highly polished stone floor.

Harry swallowed involuntarily as he looked around. It was such a large room that he could hardly believe it was meant to be a bedroom, and it was furnished and decorated as though for a king. The bed that stood against the opposite wall, with a window on either side, was so high off the floor that Harry could not think how one was supposed to get in. In front of a cavernous fireplace stood two chairs with carved backs and arm rests. A chest of drawers stood next to a gilded mirror that stretched nearly to the ceiling, and a pair of bookshelves framed a low bench with cushions. Tapestries and paintings covered nearly every inch of the walls. Everything in the room looked solid and somber, made from dark wood and heavy materials in dark colors.

He had barely taken it all in when he was brought back to the present by the thump of his trunk landing at the foot of the bed. The lock popped open and the lid fell back, revealing the jumble within.

Knowing what was wanted from him, Harry knelt in front of the trunk, his back to Snape because he didn't think he could stand to look at the man just then. The Cloak was folded and wrapped in a Weasley jumper, and he laid it on the edge of the bed for Snape to take. "I don't know what else you want."

"The Marauder's Map."

Harry almost looked up, but caught himself. It didn't matter how Snape knew what it was, or that Harry was still in possession of it. "It only shows Hogwarts. It isn't good for anything else."

Snape didn't answer him, and after a few minutes Harry took the map out from between the pages of his photo album and set it on the bed.

"The album, too."

"No."

His chest constricted, and he could not draw in a breath. The next minute felt endless as he waited for Snape to speak again.

"I will return it to you. I need a recent photograph of Black."

"You can't have it," Harry said impulsively, the thought of Snape's potions-stained hands pawing through the only pictures he had of his family hitting him like a physical blow. Even as he spoke, he knew he would have to take the words back. He had only one picture of Sirius, aside from the one taken at his parents' wedding, and to give it up, to Snape especially, was like being asked to cut out his own heart. "The album, I mean. I only have one picture of Sirius, anyway."

Snape waited, saying nothing.

"Will I get it back?" Somehow, he already knew the answer, and his voice shook slightly.

"No. I assume Black won't mind taking another one, vain as he is."

With a trembling hand, Harry flipped to the right page and removed the picture from its place. He tried not to look at it, knowing what it would do to him. He turned and thrust it into Snape's waiting hand, and then turned back quickly to slam the album shut and put it back inside the trunk.

He still could not draw a full breath into his aching lungs, and when Snape asked for the Galleon used by the D.A., Harry found and gave it up without thought.

After that Snape left him, still kneeling in front of his ransacked trunk with his head bowed and his hands clenched in his lap. Harry heard the door shut, and allowed his shoulders to slump dejectedly. The way he felt just then, he thought he might curl up on the floor and just lie there until the next morning.

Instead, he slowly began to put his trunk back in order, knowing he would need a change of clothes and likely his school books also, and in any case not wanting to leave any of his things lying about on the floor.

He was still doing this when there came a soft knock, which at first he did not recognize for what it was. Only when it repeated did he stand up and walk over to the door to open it.

The knob would not turn.

For a moment he felt a jolt of panic, thinking Snape had locked him in.

"You will need to use the key on your side, Harry."

The very muffled voice sounded familiar, but Harry could not quite believe it could be.

Looking around, he spotted the large key lying on top of the chest of drawers, and after a bit of a struggle he managed to fit it into the keyhole and turn it. With some trepidation, he pulled the door open.

"Hi, Harry," Neville said. He smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, I should have said it was me."

"Neville?" Harry couldn't take his eyes off his friend, still unable to believe it was really him even now that they were no longer separated by several inches of solid wood. "But... what are you doing here?"

"I'm staying here for the summer, just like you. May I come in, or are you still unpacking?"

"Um..." Harry glanced back to where his trunk stood open, most of its contents still in disarray. He hadn't thought of unpacking it; he had been trying to put everything back in, just more carefully than he had back at Grimmauld Place. "You can come in, of course."

"I can come back later," Neville said hastily, peering past him. "It's just that --"

"Come in, already," Harry said, pulling him by the sleeve and closing the door. "You think I'd rather stay in here by myself than talk to you?"

Neville shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. "I thought you might want to be alone. Snape had all your things, and I thought..."

"That I might be in here crying my eyes out?" Harry guessed. "I wasn't. I'm not letting Snape get to me."

Neville shrugged. "I cried nearly every night after I came here. I didn't think I could stand it at first."

Harry, unnerved by this unexpectedly honest revelation, bit his lip. "Is it that bad?"

"No, it isn't really, only, I guess... I miss Gran terribly." Neville's voice faltered and dropped nearly to a whisper. "I couldn't even go to the funeral."

For a few moments Harry could only stare at him in dismay. "Oh, Neville. I hadn't even heard. I'm so sorry." He wanted to ask what had happened, but the pain of his own loss was still fresh, and he knew better. "I'm _so _ sorry," he repeated, feeling stupid and inadequate, and not knowing what the right words were.

Neville didn't speak for a while. Several times his face twitched slightly, making Harry wonder if he would cry, but he only breathed deeply a few times and then took Harry by the arm and pulled him toward the bench between the bookcases. "Let's sit, Harry."

They sat down and for a while longer both stayed silent, Neville looking away as if seeing something in the corner of the room that Harry could not see, and Harry not having the slightest notion of what to say.

"You see," Neville began at last, his voice low but steady, "I had barely got home for the summer when it happened. Gran was in the house, and I was out in the garden tending my plants. I was about to go back when the Dark Mark went up over my house... and I knew. They were looking for me. It was getting dark and it had begun to rain, and I lay in the muck between the squash beds." Neville took a deep breath. "A Death Eater stopped right in front of me. He raised his wand, and I thought that was the end, but whatever he did, after that the others that passed me didn't see me."

"It was Snape?"

"Yes, and he came back for me later that night, while I was still hiding in the squash. He told me Luna and her father had been attacked too, and I went with him to see if I could help. That's how I got here."

"Luna?" Harry asked with a sinking feeling. Neville's face had twitched again, as if in pain, as he had said her name. "Is she...?"

Neville looked down, picking at a golden thread on one of the cushions. He pressed his lips together until they turned white, and then went on as if determined to finish the story that he had begun, no matter how painful it was. "I don't know if they went after everyone who'd been at the Ministry, or if they were after her father because he ran the Quibbler. They killed him and they... they took her. They had her for hours, Harry." This time a shaky half-sob did escape, and Neville bit his lower lip. "Snape says he might be able to do something, so I had to... I had to try to help."

A terrible, ice-cold feeling had crept over Harry as Neville spoke. He couldn't even feel his heart beating anymore, like everything inside him had frozen. Something told him he already knew, but he had to ask, had to hear it. "Is she here?"

"Yes."

"I want to see her."

Neville stood up. His face was drained of color, and his lip bled slightly where he had bitten it. "Come."

Together, they left the bedroom and crept down an unlit hallway, Neville holding onto Harry's arm as though afraid Harry would not follow him, or that they would lose each other in the darkness. They stopped in front of a door that was no different than the door to the room Harry was to stay in, and Neville fumbled with a key attached to a short chain that stretched out of the pocket of his robes.

The door swung open and Neville pulled him in and shut it behind them, and then they both stood with their backs against it, Neville still clutching Harry's arm in a painful grip.

The room they had entered was so similar to the one they had just left that a confused moment passed before Harry noticed the rows of potions bottles on top of the chest of drawers, and a low fire in the fireplace. It provided the only light.

Neville was pulling him forward, and Harry's eyes riveted on the bed, which though shrouded in shadows appeared to be occupied. He was so focused on the bed that he fell back a step in alarm when a lamp flared to light behind him and dispelled the shadows to reveal a figure sitting upon a tall stool.

"Get away from her!"

Neville's hand on his arm tightened its hold and pulled him back. "It's all right, Harry."

"Professor Snape asked me to come up," Malfoy said, speaking to Neville as if Harry was not there. "He didn't think you would tell Potter tonight."

"Thank you for sitting with her."

Malfoy got down off the stool and took a few steps toward Neville and Harry. "He gave her the potions, but she's still feverish. He's in his lab, and says to get him if she isn't improved in a few hours."

Without another word, and still not acknowledging Harry's presence, Malfoy walked past them, using his own key to open the door and then shutting it behind him.

"What was he --" Harry began, but fell silent when he realized Neville had left his side and gone over to the bed.

Almost unwillingly, Harry joined him.

Luna lay in the enormous bed, her hands folded over her chest. Her hair, cut short so that it reached only to the bottom of her earlobes, fanned around her head. There was a peaceful sort of expression on her thin face, though her cheeks burned with fever. Her eyes were closed.

There was a glass bowl on a small round table next to the bed, and a stack of small white cloths next to the bowl. Neville took one and dipped it into the bowl, where it soaked up pale green liquid. He wrung it out and placed it gently on Luna's forehead. He didn't turn to Harry, but stayed looking down at Luna as he began to speak.

"They brought her here instead of killing her at her house. Draco tried to save her, when he realized whom they had and what they were doing to her, but it was too late. It's just like my... my parents." There was a sound like Neville had swallowed something that was choking him. "She's just like my parents now."

Slowly, feeling clumsy and stiff, Harry put his hand on Neville's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Neville said. His voice shook. "I should have warned you better, I guess."

Harry patted his shoulder. He remembered something suddenly, but he hardly dared to voice it. "Did you say Snape thinks she might get better?"

"No, just that Snape's going to try to help her. She won't get better if she's sent to St. Mungo's, like my parents."

Harry's stomach clenched with misgiving. "Snape thinks he can do better than all the best healers?"

"I guess," Neville said. He was trying to wipe his eyes with his sleeve, and Harry pretended not to notice. "I know they can't do anything for her, so he might as well try if he thinks he can."

"What does he need you for?"

Neville shrugged half-heartedly. "He doesn't really, I suppose, but if I'm here he doesn't need to grow anything himself."

Harry studied what he could see of Neville's face; Neville was determinedly refusing to look at him. "But... Malfoy... you call him Draco now? What's that about? Neville, this is _Malfoy_ --"

"They're on our side, you know," Neville said, more than a little defensively. "And I've been here for weeks, Harry, so I couldn't very well not speak to him at all, and... and..." Neville faltered, then swallowed hard and stood a little taller. "I testified at his father's trial."

"You what?" Harry repeated, taken aback. His hand dropped from Neville's shoulder. "Neville, he tried to kill me! He tried to kill you!"

"I know!" Neville's voice rose shrilly. "But he's on our side. Snape says he always was."

"And you believe Snape?" Harry asked. He took a step away from Neville without meaning to. "You _believe_ Snape?"

"I... I have to." Neville still wouldn't look at him. His face was as white as death. "I have to, or else Luna will spend the rest of her life in St. Mungo's." And then, dropping his voice, he added something that Harry only just barely heard. "And my parents, too."

Harry stared at him, all the things he might have said knocked out of him. What could he say, when Neville had been trapped in the same way he had been trapped? Could he blame Neville, while forcing himself to believe that Snape could bring back the dead, for believing that whatever potion Snape was making for Luna might also help his parents?

The silence between them stretched, and Neville was the one who broke it at last.

"The trial resumes tomorrow. Snape will ask you to testify, I think. I just thought you'd want to be prepared."


End file.
